The Travelling Detective: Boxed Set

by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

  Sally took a breath and continued. “He always has a smile. He isn’t angry about his situation, and he tries really hard to make life better for other people in wheelchairs. He’s met Rick Hansen and has helped him raise money by taking part in his Man in Motion fund raising. And he belongs to a wheelchair basketball team and has gone to the Paralympics twice.”

  “Sounds like an active guy,” Elizabeth said

  “He is. I’ve been telling him about you and he sounds interested. So, will you come with me and meet him?”

  After two weeks of putting her off, Elizabeth finally agreed. “Okay. I guess it won’t hurt.

  “Good. He coaches wheelchair basketball in the afternoons so we could go see him after work. I’ll call him and let him know that we can meet him at the gym.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Why not?”

  Elizabeth couldn’t think of a reason. She shrugged. “Might as well get it over with.”

  When they entered the gymnasium Elizabeth surveyed the room, watching as the young players deftly manoeuvred their chairs with the basketball on their lap, threw the ball to a team mate, and took shots at the basket. She was impressed when one girl made a basket because, even though they were in chairs, the hoop was the same height as for able-bodied players.

  The whistle blew and Elizabeth’s eyes were drawn to the man who wheeled out onto the court. Her breath caught.

  “Yes, he is, isn’t he,” Sally said, from beside her.

  Elizabeth didn’t answer as she stared at the most handsome man she had ever seen. His blond hair was cut short and gently spiked, his face was tanned and he wore wire rim glasses. His body was long and lean but his shoulders were broad, probably from wheeling his chair. It was hard to judge but she thought he’d be about six foot tall if he could stand.

  “He’s our age and he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Sally said. “And close your mouth.”

  Elizabeth stopped staring and shook her head. Boy, she had never done that before.

  “He’s very formal. He’ll call you Ms. Oliver until you tell him differently. He addressed me as Ms. Matthews the first couple of times until I realized he needed to be told to call me by my first name.”

  Jared had noticed them and was wheeling over, a smile on his face. Elizabeth hoped she could speak.

  “Hi Jared,” Sally said. “This is Elizabeth Oliver, the writer I was telling you about.”

  “Hello, Ms. Oliver.” Jared held out his hand.

  Elizabeth took it, feeling a tingle run down her spine. She suppressed a shiver. Not knowing what else to do, she said. “Mr. Jones. But call me Elizabeth,” she quickly added.

  “Okay. And I’m Jared.”

  She felt a tug at her hand and blushed as she let go of his, realizing she had held it too long. She had to get her mind together and quit acting like an idiot.

  “The practice is just about over,” Jared said. “Can you wait ten minutes then we’ll go for coffee?”

  “Okay,” Sally agreed, before Elizabeth could say anything. “We’ll wait in the bleachers.”

  “Talk about making a fool of myself,” Elizabeth muttered, when they were seated.

  “Well, at least you weren’t drooling,” Sally laughed.

  They watched the rest of the practice then followed Jared in his van to a nearby café. While they each had a piece of pie, he seemed to take a genuine interested in her and her writing, asking her how she had gotten into it, what she liked most about it, and what was her favourite place in Alberta so far. By the end she was smitten.

  “Well, what do you think of him?” Sally asked on their way home. “Quite a hunk, isn’t he?”

  “That he is, all right,” Elizabeth grinned. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

  “I did. I told you he was cute. Besides, no one warned me and I did just what you did when I first met him.”

  “It was embarrassing.” Elizabeth laughed. “He’s very nice, isn’t he?”

  “He’s the easiest client I’ve ever had. He’s not bossy or complaining or demanding. He helps when he can. He’s just the best.”

  “So how come you’re not dating him?”

  “For one thing it’s against the rules and for another, as nice and cute as he is, he’s just not my type.” She glanced over at Elizabeth. “I think he’s yours, though.”

  “I definitely wouldn’t mind getting to know him better.”

  Now, two months later Elizabeth was waiting for him to show up for one of their infrequent dates. Not that they didn’t see each other often or talk on the phone every day. It’s just that this was a real date, where they got dressed up and she put on make-up and tried to style her hair.

  Her delight, though, was quickly turning to worry. He’d never been late before. She checked her watch again. He should have been there fifteen minutes ago. Hopefully, he hadn’t been in an accident or had a flat tire. She thought about phoning him, but she was sure he’d call her if there was a problem. She felt a sudden disappointment that maybe he’d forgotten.

  Then she saw him come in the door. He hadn’t forgotten. He hadn’t had an accident. Her relief was quickly replaced with excitement at the prospect of the evening ahead. She didn’t care why he was late, only that he had come.

  As he wheeled closer she jumped up to give him a kiss. He returned it but just barely. Nor did he greet her with his usual smile and “Hi, sweetheart.” He certainly wasn’t his normal, happy self.

  Her stomach cringed. Something was wrong. Something had happened. Would he tell her? Was their relationship strong enough that she dared to ask?

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Jared said, quietly.

  “That’s okay. I haven’t been waiting long.”

  Jared picked up the menu and glanced through it quickly, flipping the pages without really reading. Elizabeth sat and pretended to look through hers. She’d already read everything on it twice while waiting.

  Jared closed the menu and looked at her. “I’ve heard that you’ve worked on a couple of murders,” he said, softly.

  “And who did you hear that from?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Well, it may have come up in one of Sally’s and my conversations.”

  “I’ve only figured out two and not because I knew what I was doing, it just happened,” Elizabeth said.

  Jared pulled out an envelope from his shirt pocket and removed a photograph. He stared at it a moment before handing it to her. She looked at him then down at the photo of a gravestone with an inscription:

  Anna Jones

  She Took Her Own Life

  And That Of Her Unborn Child.

  “My mother’s grave,” Jared said.

  Elizabeth looked at it again. What kind of a person would put this on a gravestone?

  “Turn it over.”

  She complied. The three words ‘She was murdered’ had been cut from a magazine and taped to the back. There was no signature. She raised her eyebrows at Jared.

  “I received it yesterday,” he said.

  “From who?”

  “I don’t know.” He handed her the envelope. “There was no return address. But the cancelled stamp shows that it was mailed from Redwater. I took it to the Edmonton police as soon as I opened it but the person at the station said I would have to talk to the RCMP in Redwater where Mom died. I phoned that detachment and spoke with an officer. When I explained the story, she told me that they would need more evidence than that to open the old case.”

  He took the photo and envelope back and looked down at it again. “That engraving is carved into my memory but it still makes me heartsick to see that Dad had that written on her headstone.”

  Elizabeth’s heart went out to him. She laid her hand on his arm. She wanted to ask why his father had put it on the stone, but she refrained and was glad she did. He began talking.

  “This morning I phoned my older half-brother, Willy, who is farming with our father. He laughed at the idea. ‘Why would anyone kill her?’ he asked. ‘She had no money a
nd she didn’t have any enemies. She was just a woman who was tired of her life.’”

  Jared fell silent, brooding.

  “I’m so sorry, Jared,” Elizabeth said, quietly.

  “But why was she tired of her life?” Jared asked, looking at her sadly. “That’s what I’ve never understood. Why did she commit suicide?”

  “Did no one ever tell you?”

  “I was only told that she had gone to heaven. I wasn’t told how or why. Later when I started school the other children taunted me telling me she had committed suicide. When I asked my father what that meant, he refused to talk about it, but I kept asking until he finally said. ‘Yes, she committed suicide. She threw herself down the old well. Now leave me alone.’

  “After that Dad barely talked about her or her death. He wouldn’t tell me why she’d done it, or even if she loved me. He never answered any of my questions. As I grew older I learned that I had grandparents who had moved to Edmonton before Mom’s death but Dad refused to talk about them or give me an address. He never told me anything about her life before they’d met.”

  “What about your brother, Willy? Did he tell you anything?”

  Jared shook his head. “Just like Dad. He told me to forget about it.”

  “How old were you when it happened?”

  “I was only four.”

  “Do you remember much about her?”

  “The only thing I remember is what she told me about how she met my dad at a dance. They married and she moved to his farm. Over the years I guess I’ve let everything else about her slip into my distant memory.”

  He paused. “But now, since receiving the picture, some images have come back. I even dreamed about her last night, with her long, dark hair which she kept pinned back from her face. She used to brush it in the evening. And she always gave me a hug and kiss when she tucked me in bed.”

  “Did you tell your father about this photograph?”

  “No, Willy doesn’t want me to. He wants me to throw it away and forget the whole thing. He says Dad doesn’t need to be reminded of the past.” He paused and looked at the photo. “And that’s why I’m late. I’ve been on the phone with Willy most of the day trying to get him to help me. I wanted to ask Dad about this but Willy kept intercepting the calls and hanging up on me, like I was a telemarketer or something.”

  Jared went quiet again and Elizabeth didn’t say anything. She knew expressing words of sympathy would be futile.

  He looked up at her imploringly. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since I received it. What if she didn’t commit suicide? What if she was murdered as the words on the back of this photograph suggest? If I ignore this then I’d always wonder if a killer got away with my mother’s murder. I have to make sure she wasn’t murdered and I need your help.”

  Chapter 3

  “I’m not a detective,” Elizabeth said, feeling a load of weight suddenly settle on her shoulders. She couldn’t get caught up in this. The other murders had involved people she didn’t know and she’d had no stake in the outcome. She knew Jared, and the pressure to succeed for him would be immense.

  “The police want more evidence. I don’t know how to get it and I can’t afford to hire a private investigator. You’re the only person I know who could do this for me.”

  Elizabeth chewed on her lip. “You know I’ve already taken time off work to research and write my travel article.”

  “Yes,” Jared nodded. “You’ll be in the Redwater area, won’t you? I could come with you...”

  “I’m still not certain which highways I am going on from Edmonton, yet. I might not have time to go out to Redwater and ask questions.”

  Elizabeth’s heart ached at the look of disappointment on his face and she felt her resolve weakening. She wasn’t positive that she could say no to this man she found so alluring.

  “Could you do it on weekends or days off?” He quickly held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to plead like that. It’s just that I really want to find out what the truth is.”

  The waiter came to take their orders and Elizabeth continued after he left.

  “I really know nothing about solving crimes,” she reiterated. “I just happened to be drawn into them and it was only luck that I was able to resolve them.”

  “I’ll settle for anything, experience, luck, whatever it takes to find out what this is all about.”

  “It could just be a prank,” Elizabeth said. She was trying everything she could think of.

  “I’ve thought about that, too, but I still need to know.”

  Elizabeth hesitated. ‘Don’t get involved,’ a little voice told her. ‘Don’t even ask for more information. You have enough on your plate as it is.’

  As usual, her natural born inquisitiveness caused her to ignore that little voice. “There are just so many questions,” she said, her mind working. “Like who sent it? Why now? Why did they send it to you and not your father? What do they think you can do about it after all this time?”

  Jared just shook his head. “I wish I knew all that.”

  “Maybe if you waited long enough they might go to the police.”

  “But if they don’t then I will never know.”

  Elizabeth tried not to be swayed by his good looks as her head advised her to say ‘No’ while her heart yelled ‘Yes! Yes!’

  “Tell me more,” Elizabeth finally said. She couldn’t help herself, she was intrigued.

  “I don’t know much. My mother threw herself…supposedly threw herself down an old well on our farm.”

  “How much older than you is Willy?”

  “Twelve years.”

  “So he knew your mother.”

  Jared nodded.

  “Other than your brother have you talked to anyone else about the photograph?”

  “No.”

  “Where from Redwater is the farm?” They had been talking about her going out to meet his family some time. Maybe it would be sooner than expected.

  “It’s southeast of Redwater.

  Elizabeth picked up the photo and turned it over again. “Why do you suppose it was sent now?”

  “The only thing I can think of is that this year is the thirtieth anniversary of her death.”

  Their food was delivered and Elizabeth breathed a silent sigh of relief. Maybe eating would give her time to come up with a way out of this. They ate in silence for a while.

  Her mind failed her so in the end she said. “Why don’t I think it over? After all, I still have a week before I start my research.”

  Jared’s face brightened a bit. “Would you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Jared said, with a smile.

  Elizabeth’s heart beat faster. She couldn’t be positive yet, but she thought she was in love.

  * * * *

  That evening Elizabeth sat in her bedroom, which also doubled as her office, going over the notes she’d been making on her computer for her trip. But thoughts of Jared kept creeping into her mind. He was so striking in his looks, his demeanour, his attitude. Once she’d agreed to think the idea over they had had their usual great time, talking and laughing and eating dessert. She was surprised at how quickly the evening had gone. It just seemed that time speeded up when they were together.

  She hadn’t told Jared that she had actually thought to work from Edmonton, leaving early each morning and coming home at night just like her readers would. If she took on his “case,” she would have to stay somewhere around Redwater.

  Chevy began to whimper at her feet. Jared had met her cockapoo dog, and he knew that he always went with her on her trips. Another possible complication to be thought about. She liked staying at bed and breakfasts. Would she be able to find one in the Redwater area that allowed dogs?

  “So you think it’s time for your walk, do you?” she asked, with a smile.

  Chevy wagged his tail.

  “Okay, let’s get your leash.”

  They climbed the stairs
and Elizabeth walked through the open door into her father’s place. He and Sally were playing a game of Scrabble.

  “That makes twenty-four points, Phil,” Sally said, as she tallied up her numbers. “I’m ahead by forty points.”

  “I’m taking Chevy out,” Elizabeth said.

  “See you later,” her dad and Sally said together. All three laughed.

  It was just growing dusk as Elizabeth and Chevy started out on their route down the alley. Chevy went from fence to fence checking scents while Elizabeth said “Hi,” to any of her neighbours who were out in their yards. At the end of the alley Chevy turned left and they headed towards a park. Here she undid his leash and he took off on a run. She kept an eye on him so she could clean up after him.

  * * * *

  Sally was sitting on their couch when she arrived home. “Thank you for spending the evening with Dad,” Elizabeth said. It seemed as if Sally was the one who spent most of the time with him and Elizabeth felt a little guilty.

  Sally waved her hand. “He’s fun and he doesn’t mind losing. But I want to know how your date went.” She leaned forward eagerly.

  Elizabeth sat down and told Sally all about the photograph Jared had received.

  Sally leaned back and grinned. “Wasn’t it just this morning you were saying that the odds of bumping into a murder to unravel three years in a row would be high?”

  Elizabeth grimaced. “I know.”

  “Are you going to help him with it?”

  Elizabeth thought about it. Now that she was away from Jared and the spell he seemed to have cast over her, her common sense took over. “I really don’t know if I can,” Elizabeth said. “There would be just too many problems, like having to use his vehicle for the wheelchair, and could we find a place that accepts dogs, and how would I find time do my work if I have to run around asking questions?”